Wake Up, Bad Dream
by Nanaki BH
Summary: HarryxJames Heather discovers a new diary and a new part of her father's life.
1. Feel too tired to be fighting

Disclaimer: _Silent Hill _and all related materials are property of Konami.

Wake Up, Bad Dream  
By: Nanaki BH

It was only October but it felt like the weather was already turning bad. I woke up that morning with freezing fingers and numb toes. Suddenly, October wanted to be a part of winter. If I could speak to October, and if it would even listen then, I would've told it that it wasn't invited to the winter party. When I got up and looked out the window, though, I was disappointed to see that it had already brought snow. What was I supposed to do? Tell it to take it back to the store? Well… it wasn't invited anyway. Just looking out there into that unnatural white void made me not want to step foot in it.

Winter was always depressing for me. A longer winter was synonymous with a longer depression. I lied back onto the bed instead; my dad's bed. I attempted to spent my mornings after my Silent Hill experience to the fullest usually. Still, there were some times when I would wake up with terribly vivid memories of that vicious nightmare still fresh in my head. I would try my best to ignore them. It would do me no good to dwell on them, I figured.

I was still overwhelmed with grief every time I walked in to see my father's empty bed. It was empty. He was gone. I didn't want to believe it; I had to, but the truth of it hurt me so much. He was more than just my father. He was the only constant person in my life.

With him gone, it was just me and me alone. I had no one. I had nothing. As far as I was concerned, I didn't even have a past. I wished my life could be like a chalkboard where I could just wipe clean all of the ridiculous and horrible things. As much as I wanted to believe my life was mine alone, I still couldn't. It wasn't that simple. My life was more than me. It was my father and Claudia, Vincent and Douglas.

Douglas. Right. He called me the day before. I'm sure he got my phone number somewhere; not from me. And I wasn't the kind to leave my number on a bathroom stall. He called to ask how I was doing. I stayed silent then for a while. He thought I hung up. I don't know. I don't know if you can call what I do "enduring" because I know I can't withstand the pain.

_Where are you, dad? Are you bored without me? Do you even care about me now?_

It was sad, the diaries he left behind for me to find. When I read them, I could hear his voice. The words would lift from the page and I would no longer see them; I would see his face instead. His eyes were bright and kind in my mind even as he spoke the words he knew to be his last. I knew I'd seen him sad before but none of my real memories of him were sad ones. Even when the words he used were laced with distress, the voice in my mind, the one I heard so often, was still reassuring. _There's nothing to fear._

But I would still cry. It didn't make sense, but I would cry and I couldn't control my tears.

That day, as I watched the snow continue to fall, I thought about my dad. He wouldn't have wanted me to be depressed. I had come so far. He may not have survived, but I _did_. He would have wanted me to live. With a little bit of resolve in me, I got up from his bed. I wanted to find his letters. I crossed the room to the desk where he used to work. I expected to find them on the top of the desk. They weren't there, though, and I was surprised. I panicked instantly, thinking I lost them. I overturned almost everything on the top until I pulled open the drawer.

Inside, not only did I find the letters I'd previously received, I also found an unfamiliar diary. It had a lock on the front but it was open. I took a breath and opened it slowly. I closed me eyes and released my breath. Then I began to read.

"_Cheryl, I bet you can't get enough of these. This one is all for you. It was an extra one I had lying around so I decided to entrust it to you. These first few pages are for me, though. I suppose you won't mind. You've probably been "treasure hunting" for them all over the apartment. I left it unlocked to make it easier for you. What's inside of here is important, after all, and I don't want to cause you any unnecessary trouble. Now, don't flip ahead. I know you're dying to hear what's so important but just… hear me out first._

"_There are other people like you, Cheryl. There are many other people who had to live their own experience in Silent Hill. You aren't alone; God could never be that cruel. Many of the people living there arrived in Silent Hill by accident or coincidence and never left. At least, that's what I've gathered from reports and accounts from survivors. There's no guarantee that they stayed. It seems that no one's brave enough to go look for these people._

"_There was one man, though. James. He was someone I took particular interest in. He also happened to be the only person I met with who was willing to speak openly about what happened and, for the most part, with a level head. He told me that he lost his wife and received a letter from her, dated after her death. It was impossible, he knew. But he had to go to Silent Hill to "meet her". He was driven by something beyond himself, something uncontrollable. When he arrived in Silent Hill it was nothing but barren streets clouded by fog and empty, abandoned buildings._

"_He met a girl, similar to how I met you, Cheryl. Her name was Laura. Apparently, she met his wife while she was in the hospital and became her friend. James never knew about their friendship. She ran him around Silent Hill until he finally cornered her to ask her why she knew his wife. She led him to find a videotape… and he finally realized what it was Silent Hill had been trying to tell him._

"_James killed his wife. Believe me when I say this, though: He is not a bad man. I have never seen someone with such sorrow and pain in their eyes. He cried when he told me and he made me swear up and down that I wouldn't turn him in. I didn't and you won't either. I would tell you where you can find him to talk to him for yourself, but there's no guarantee that you'll find him anyway. He and Laura move every now and then and by the time you read this, he's probably already moved from three or four different locations. But he's worth talking to. He's a person worth meeting. At least, that's how I feel._"

The rest of his writing was messy and quickly scrawled. There was a small, noticeable water stain on the page, too. A tear? Had he been crying when he wrote the rest? I ran my fingers over it gently, wondering to myself what could have possibly been causing him pain.

I continued reading and my breath caught in my throat at the very first sentence.

"_He and I began a relationship. When I first met him I only went back once to verify his story but it was that time that he asked me to stay a while. He asked me a lot about myself and, well, you know how I am. I was hesitant to tell him anything; concerned about your safety. I felt really comfortable talking to him and before I knew it, I spilled my whole life story to him. Really, I've never known anybody so much like myself. I had the time to meet his daughter a few days after that when she came home from public school in the evening. She reminded me a lot of you. You'll see what I mean. I hope you find it in you to pay them a visit._

"_I guess I shouldn't leave this so open ended. By the time I'm writing this now, I've known him for three months. I'm sorry I haven't told you. If I'm still alive by some chance (and what a chance that would be!) then I'm _so_ sorry for not telling you, honey. He's a wonderful man. I love you. I love him. I'm sure you'll love him, too._"

I closed the book, having reached the last word of the last sentence, punctuated by a tear. My own this time. I should have been surprised or at least a little angry. That's the way any normal person would have responded. But I wasn't any of that. I just let the tears roll down my cheeks, elated that my father had found love again in the end.

Author's Notes: Aw. Heather got a little sensitive there at the end. I've been meaning to do a story with more than one chapter again. So, that means there will probably (hopefully) be a second chapter. Well, there should be. Otherwise you'll never know what it would be like for Heather to meet James. Crazy. I hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback's always appreciated!


	2. No one on my side

Disclaimer: _Silent Hill _and all related materials are property of Konami.

Wake Up, Bad Dream  
By: Nanaki BH

I must've sat there forever, dead still with the diary still in hand, absolutely stunned and overcome with emotion. I closed my eyes and it was like I was holding his hand in mine. I clutched the open diary to my chest in an embrace and I wished so desperately that he could be there to receive it. He wasn't, though. And he wouldn't be. He was gone and I knew now that I wasn't the only person he'd left behind.

My eyes snapped open and the book fell from my limp grasp. "That's right," I said to the quiet of the room. "I'm not the only one, am I?" My heart began to swell with something a little lighter than sadness. I breathed a sigh and all at once, my grief left me, if only for a while. I had something more important to waste my time with. I stood with determination, snatching the book up from the floor. I was going to find this "James" guy whether he liked it or not.

Unfortunately, I got to thinking about that. "Whether he liked it or not" was right. How was I supposed to find him if my dad didn't even bother putting down a guess as to where he would be? Maybe he wasn't really as nomadic as my father thought. Then again, he sounded pretty confident. But how I was I supposed to find him without as much as a phone number?

The answer hit me all at once like a slap in the face. Douglas. If he could call me without me telling him my number, he would have no problem tracking down some ordinary guy. (I hoped he was ordinary enough to find, at least.) So I decided to give Douglas a call. It was a hunt in itself just finding _his_ number. I found his office number on a scrap of paper I shoved in my skirt pocket after I found him again in the amusement park. I made sure to get it just in case. It wasn't like I was going to give him _mine._ That sure didn't stop him from finding a way to bother me, though, did it? My number is not for casual calls from old men!

I ran to the phone as quickly as I could without tripping over something. I uncurled the tiny piece of paper and held it up to read. It had blood and dirt stuck to it and I cringed, taking down a mental note to throw that skirt into the wash.

I rolled my eyes, having waited too long for him to answer once I dialed. I was almost ready to hang up the phone when I finally heard somebody pick up on the other end. "Hello?" It was Douglas and he sounded strangely out of breath.

"Hey, it's… um… Heather. Why do you sound so exhausted?"

He cleared his throat. "Ah. Well, I'm a busy guy, you know. I've got other needy customers. So. What can I do for you? How are things?"

I sighed. "Things are fine. And look, I'm sorry if I was short with you that other time you called. I'm a busy girl. I've got things to do, too." I was lying through my teeth and it made me just want to hit myself or something. I was apologizing by lying? What the hell kind of person was I? "But now I've got some business for you. You seem like a Silent Hill junky. You probably know a lot about that place, right? Well, there's a guy I need you to find for me."

"This sounds serious. Who's the guy?"

"His name is James. That's all I know. He went to Silent Hill for his wife. Sound familiar?"

He was silent then and when I asked if he was still listening, he only gave a displeased grunt. He knew something for sure and he just didn't want to tell me. My brow furrowed and I gripped the phone tightly in my hands. "Listen," I said firmly, trying my hardest to sound urgent, "you've got to find me that guy."

"Why would a pretty young girl such as you want to meet a guy like James Sunderland?"

At least I finally knew his whole name. It wasn't a very threatening sounding name; not the name of a killer. I flopped back onto the living room couch and closed my eyes, tiredly placing a hand on my forehead. "Douglas," I started, too tired to keep any agitation in my voice. "My dad gave me letters. I'm sure you know all about those. There was one where he talked about Mr. Sunderland… um… _intimately_. I think his dying wish was for me to meet him. I was hoping that, maybe, he might know something I don't or understand something I don't."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something. Like, maybe what my dad was like. He must've been different around him somehow. And I want to know what was so special about James. My father didn't enjoy sharing time with people he didn't know." He always shied away from people we didn't know for our own safety. It wasn't because he was anti-social. He sacrificed his own time – his own life to keep me safe.

He groaned, trying to tear himself away from whatever it was holding him back. "Fine," he said, "I'll find him for you. Don't blame me if he's not what you expected, though. I'll call you back when I've got something." Then he hung up.

Why would he act like I was making a mistake? My father _knew_ him; this was hardly even a stranger then. So he was in Silent Hill. So was I. So he killed… his… Okay, so I'll admit that killing somebody isn't normal behavior. He must have had a reason then. If the other people who were there are anything like me, they can't possibly be entirely nuts; maybe eccentric or sort of weird. My dad wouldn't associate (or fall in love) with somebody dangerous.

And besides, he already asked for me to trust his word. There's never been a person I trust more.

Author's Notes: Aw, look: The softer side of Heather. The good stuff comes in the next chapter when she'll finally meet everybody's favorite Silent Hill pretty boy.


	3. Guess I'm not the fighting kind

Disclaimer: _Silent Hill _and all related materials are property of Konami.

Wake Up, Bad Dream  
By: Nanaki BH

He got me his address easier than I expected him to. He got the phone number, too, but I had the feeling that showing up directly and saying, "Hi, I'm Harry's daughter" would give him more of a reason to speak with me. I wanted to see the guy the more I thought about him. My dad didn't think so much as to even leave me a photograph. This "security" thing was beginning to bother me a lot. He didn't even detail how old he was or what color hair he would have. In the time it took for Douglas to call me back, my mind kept on formulating possibilities.

I thought, since my dad was a fairly well-to-do sort of guy, neither dominant nor submissive, it was possible he could've fallen for anybody. James could've been in my mind, tall, short, skinny, fat, kind or even somewhat bitter or cynical. One thing was for sure: he must have had something in common with my dad; looks or otherwise. I thought about it so much and for so long that I thought I had come up with all the possibilities.

When I got the call back from Douglas and heard that he'd found his information, all of those possibilities sprung to mind. I came up with one final image in my mind of what he would be like. I wanted to be surprised. It didn't matter how correct I was then. It would be like opening a birthday gift.

I quickly thanked him and I looked over the number and address one last time, just to be sure I really wanted to meet him. I couldn't shake what Douglas had told me earlier that morning; that meeting with him could be a mistake. I allowed myself to dwell on it momentarily. Douglas had sounded pretty serious. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. It was unfortunate I had hung up so soon. If he had his number and address then, without a doubt, he would have had other information about him. I had lost out on my only opportunity to prepare myself. I could've always just called him back to ask…

But curiosity drove me to leave without another thought to meet the real James on my own. I grabbed the gun on my dresser, just in case, and shoved it in the back of my pants, hiding it with my shirt. Honestly, I didn't plan on using it but I knew how unfamiliar people could be.

I left and headed for his place. The apartment where he lived was a few towns away. I was surprised because it was actually a nice town. It was a place with a pretty decent reputation, with a low crime rate. Only doctors and rich people lived in the area. He must've found the only apartment in their entire community, I thought. I took the subway, then a bus, and then walked on foot the rest of the way there. I was expecting it to be like something out of a children's story; like the old witch's house at the end of the street.

Nope, not as much as a crow or a crooked fence. The apartment was a short complex and stood on nice, well-kept grounds. They even had flowers outside where the cars would pull in. I took my note out of my pants pocket and neatly unfolded it to check his apartment number again. Apartment number 106. I was shocked to see he was on the first floor. I took a quick glance at my watch. It was still only going on noon, which was good because that meant his daughter Laura would be at school. I wanted this guy all to myself so I could be free to ask him questions.

I readied myself with a deep, calming breath. My curled fist hesitated just a few inches away from the door, ready and waiting to knock. What was keeping me? I forced myself to knock. A shiver went down my spine instantly; all of the things Douglas had said returned and I froze. It was too late, though. The axe had already fallen. I could hear somebody's footsteps and I knew he was coming.

I was already bracing myself when I heard the door knob begin to turn. My heart hit the brakes for a second when, out from behind the door spied a troubled, young face. He didn't look at all like what I thought he would. He looked a lot younger than my dad but he wasn't without his age, either. We both stood in a mutual silence, just looking at each other. Dad was right; I already felt like I knew him.

"Ch-Cheryl?" He muttered quietly. He looked so terribly tired; like I'd woken him up.

Once I nodded, speechless, he allowed me inside out of the cold weather. His apartment looked similar to ours. It was dark, save for the light from the open windows. The décor was primarily comprised of browns and other warm colors. They failed to bring warmth to the room somehow, though. I closed the door softly behind myself and followed him into his living room.

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch. "Would you like something to drink, maybe? I made some coffee just now." He held up his steaming coffee cup to prove his point.

I waved my hand, dismissing his offer, kind as it was. "No thank you, I'm fine." Though to be honest, I hadn't had anything for breakfast or anything to drink all morning. He looked at me with the same eyes my father would give me from across the dinner table and that time, I couldn't refuse. I accepted his offer with an uncontrollable smile.

He returned with another cup of coffee for me only moments later. "I made it sweet," he said. "I hope you like it like that. You look like a sweet sort of person."

Normally, I wouldn't even drink coffee so I didn't necessarily have a preference. His kindness made me smile nonetheless. I wasn't sure what kind of thing I was supposed to say to him. There he was, fussing over me and I had hardly even said a word.

So, lifting my cup after taking a sip, I thanked him. It was the perfect opportunity to throw in something else. "You're nice. No wonder my dad liked you."

A light blush colored his cheeks and he folded his hands in his lap. "Right… About that. How much did he tell you?" He looked very honestly flustered. It appeared I had ruffled some feathers and made him a bit uncomfortable. The way he held himself from the start made me believe he was a very reserved person, but seeing him that way then, I knew I was right. He seemed to hide away within himself in some way. I could have tortured him endlessly by making things up… or by telling him nothing at all. But he looked like a sweet, innocent guy so I decided to save that treatment for somebody who would deserve it.

"He didn't say too much; just the basics. He told me about you and your wife and a little bit about Laura. I know about you two. He sounded happy."

"You don't mind that sort of thing?"

I thought that was an odd question. Did he mean gay people? In that case… I hadn't thought about it. If they were just anybody then I might have had a problem but it was my dad and _his_ lover. Somehow that transcended gender and orientation to me and I hadn't even thought of it. I shook my head. "No, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad there was somebody who could make him happy."

James' smile told me he was relieved. A mistake? Well, he certainly wasn't what I expected him to be, that was for sure. I couldn't believe such a sweet person could come out of Silent Hill alive. For that matter, I couldn't believe he had even killed his wife. People can change, I guess. People can change a lot… Unless he was the axe-murderer type who only appeared to be quiet and humble.

I took a quick gulp of my coffee and tried to remove that though. "So what attracted you to my dad? Who made the first move: you or him?"

Being a girl myself, I really didn't see a problem in asking such a question. I caught him with it mid-sip and he almost spit out his coffee. He laughed nervously and settled himself back into his chair. "Well," he said. "You see…" He couldn't quite seem to get it out, awkwardly dancing around whatever it was he was thinking of saying.

"I had invited him over again after he interviewed me for the first time about my experiences in that town. There was something about him. I think I enjoyed having somebody else in the house for once; another guy. That's why I invited him back. Laura was away, of course, and I was feeling sort of daring, I guess. I think he knew why I asked him back; not like I'm forward or anything. But when he came to me that day, we just looked at each other in the doorway and… kissed. I don't know what it was then but we both just… _knew_. I know it must sound strange to you."

He kept his face hidden from me, staring down embarrassedly into his lap. I leaned forward and took a closer look at him. He wasn't just embarrassed… he was trying not to cry. My father's death wasn't hard on just me; there was somebody else who loved him, it turned out.

I got on my knees in front of where he was seated and placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I know how you feel," I said softly, trying to sound kind. Truth was, I felt like crying again, too. "But he loved us so much and he wanted us to keep on living, even after he's gone. We don't have time to be sad. I can tell that you really loved him just by the look on your face. You wouldn't be crying if you didn't."

A tear escaped and slipped down my cheek, falling to the floor. He looked at me through tear clouded eyes, his face a combination of sorrow and sympathy. My world at last recognized that there were others who could lose and feel pain. At last I had found an equal. I'd never felt so happy for my father but I'd never been so sad at the same time.

I wasn't usually prone to affection, but I felt the unexplainable need to hug him. I threw my arms around his neck and embraced him. "I'm so glad I've met you," I said. "I know you're no mistake."

Author's Notes: It looks like the story is finally finished. To be honest, I was getting bored with it because I was writing other things at the same time. I promised one very yaoiful Silent Hill story to somebody else for the holidays anyway. Expect that in the near future. I hope you enjoyed the story!


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